In a parallel universe I must have been a goat herder or a shepherd, or worse, a hippie. How else to explain the garment that hangs silently in the cupboard, that has hung in various cupboards for 40 years, unworn, never been seen in public, never likely to be seen in public.

I wonder how it feels when I open the cupboard door, my hands reach in and take a shirt or coat out. Maybe this time, he’ll do it. Maybe this time, he’ll pick me. No, poor thing that isn’t going to happen. Is this tough love, cruelty? Just as well clothing can’t talk.

My decades-old wool coat has been worn about as often as an old wedding dress.

I don’t even know if I like it.

It is part cape, part coat, short sleeves, no buttons, two pockets either side. It is made of wool, rough wool, and feels more like an artistic reshaping of a hessian bag. Two long cords fall down each side from the collar. It is light brown with blue stripes.

I have worn it, probably about twice. I must have surely before I bought it. Probably looked in a mirror at the store, and thought, in a........

© The Age